


Son of a Whore

by Critrawkets



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Arguing, Blow Jobs, Canon Era, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, In more ways than one, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Power Dynamics, Prostitution, Rough Sex, Sex for Favors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 04:42:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10914564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Critrawkets/pseuds/Critrawkets
Summary: Faced with starvation and death at Valley Forge, Alexander resorts to drastic measures to try and convince local merchants to accept their money.Washington is less than pleased when he finds out, and demands his own demonstration.





	Son of a Whore

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aidennestorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aidennestorm/gifts).



> This is the first foray into fanfiction since I was approximately 14, and I'm Canadian so do be gentle and suspend your disbelief at any and all historical inaccuracies.
> 
> For aidennestorm, who shoved the prompt into my hands then pushed me off a cliff with it. A+ cheerleader would scream with again.
> 
> Come yell with me on [tumblr](https://cjackgifs.tumblr.com/)

It started out innocently enough.

 

Hamilton, by virtue of a handsome face and no lack of charm, was very popular with the unattached daughters of the congressmen he was trying to woo into loosening their purse strings for the war effort. When it became clear the men were more likely to posture about their support than actually lend financial aid, he switched tactics and went after their daughters instead. He realized very quickly that it was much harder to say no to the pretty upturned faces of their offspring than a brash, if well spoken, Lieutenant Colonel. The summer before their stint at Valley Forge was where Hamilton honed his skills at creatively securing support for their revolution.

 

How he longs for the days when simple flirtation was all it took to garner aid.

 

Now they are facing the harshest, most gruelling winter he has ever seen; and to add to their misery none of the local merchants are inclined to take anything other than British currency. Attempting to sway them with pretty words about the honour of supporting their cause gets him nothing more than snide expressions of disbelief at his audacity. Threats of force are similarly laughed off, and given the current state of their army he can hardly blame them.

 

Trudging back to camp through the stinging cold, Hamilton has the bitter thought that not even the town whores dare to be out this time of year. He gives a single, pitying thought to their poor patrons before sudden clarity hits. He hurries into camp, plans starting to form in his head.

 

* * *

 

_ It wasn't meant to be like this. _

 

This is the singular thought that races through Alexander’s mind as he is ruthlessly taken against a desk. Ever mindful of the narrative that followed his mother long after her death, he decided early on there had to be rules for how he sought to convince the merchants to take their money. Provided he didn’t find himself on his back during these dalliances, he figured he was avoiding the whores moniker well enough. After all, men sought comfort and solace in each others hands and mouths when they were separated from their wives often enough. Surely, if he limited himself to staying on his knees he could convince himself that he was just doing what was necessary for the war effort.

 

It had worked, for a time. The winter was still long and cold, but at least he had persuaded the merchants to take their money (he couldn’t help but laugh to himself, for all the servicing he was doing they were still paying full price for all of their supplies). But just as he was getting comfortable in the role he sought out, their most lucrative supplier demanded more. He refused, at first, steadfast in his desire to retain some of his dignity. But the loss was soon conspicuous among the already suffering men, and once the other officers began to hassle him for his sudden lack of ability to coax the locals towards their cause he gave in.

 

He had not expected it to be quite this vicious. He was not a complete stranger to the ways men lie together, but theoretical knowledge had not prepared him for the practical realities of the act. This, compounded with a partner unconcerned with his well-being, leaves him sore and aching, scarcely able to return to camp on his own. He stumbles on to his bedroll, allowing the sweet bliss of exhaustion to take him under.

 

* * *

 

Try as he might, he is unable to hide his pain the next day. His limp is soon noticed, and as it was well known he had trekked into town the previous day to cajole the vendors it doesn’t take long for those around him to assume he had been unsuccessful and took a beating for his effort. To his horror, he is soon called into the hut Washington is using as an office. The General observes him quietly as he makes his way in, his expression inscrutable as Hamilton tries in vain to hide the obvious weakness in his posture. There’s a brief silence before he speaks. 

 

“Hamilton. Your limp has not gone unnoticed among the camp. I take it your excursion into town did not go as well as those previous?”

 

“My excursion was successful sir, you needn’t worry about our supplies drying up just yet," Hamilton says, his tone aiming to be light and aloof, but has obviously missed its mark.

 

Washington narrows his eyes at Hamilton, tired as he is at the stubbornness of his young aide-de-camp. “Then would you care to explain why you’re hobbling around the camp this morning?”

 

Alexander rushes to reply, his speech rapidly picking up in pace, “It’s nothing sir, I’m just a bit worn out from the travel back and forth lately. I assure you it won’t affect my work, in fact there are some missives I should be getting to-”

 

Washington slams his hands down on the desk before him, startling Hamilton into silence. When he speaks, it’s through gritted teeth, trying in vain to conceal his growing ire. “I grow weary of your attempts to hide when you are unwell Alexander. You seem to be doing your best to work yourself into an early grave. It is one thing for you to constantly write to the point of exhaustion, but I draw the line at you concealing physical injury.”

 

“Your excellency it is really not so bad; nothing I cannot handle, especially given the amount of work that is to be done.”

 

“And how am I to trust that the quality of your work will be up to my standards? Even now, every small movement you make is followed up by a wince. How do you expect to be able to concentrate on the words in front of you, let alone form a coherent response?”

 

“I have worked through worse pains in the past, I am not unable now-”

 

“That is not the point Colonel! The point is you are wearing yourself thin, and seem to be going to great lengths to conceal what is currently ailing you. What happened in town? You say your mission was successful, but you return far more injured than being road weary can explain for. What are you trying to hide?”

 

“I am not trying to hide anyth-”

 

“Enough!” Washington’s tone is truly thunderous now, his outburst rivalling the earlier smack to the table in volume. “I’ve already got the rumours surrounding Arnold to contend with, I will not tolerate yours as well.”

 

Hamilton is taken aback by the sudden comparison to their suspected traitor. Incredulous that his loyalty is abruptly being called into question, he fires back, “Did you call me in here to accuse me of treason then? If that’s what this is about then by all means, out with it so we can both get on with our lives.”

 

“You know that isn’t what this is! I’m merely trying to find out what is going on so I can safely put a stop to the queries that are following you. Now stop dancing around the truth and be out with it!”

 

Through the heat of the rage lingering from the almost-accusation Hamilton stares hard at the General and realizes there will be no way out of this. Washington is too worked up to let it go, like a hound hell bent on catching a fox and tearing it to shreds. The notion of being stalked prey doesn’t sit well with him, and in a cool, snide tone he replies, “You want to know what I’ve really been doing to garner favour with our merchants? How I convinced them to finally take our money so we had a chance of surviving the winter? I took over the jobs of the whores who were smart enough to stay inside for the season.”

 

Following his admission there is a long, weighted pause during which Hamilton can scarcely breathe. When Washington finally speaks the icy tone is expected but the question he asks is not. “Exactly how long has this been going on?”

 

Hamilton is momentarily surprised into silence. The length of time he has been doing this hardly seems like the most pertinent question, and the unexpectedness of it spurs him into his snide reply, “Well, technically, flirting with daughters of our esteemed congress is how we survived the summer.”

 

“You know that is not what I’m asking you.”

 

“What does it matter? Your men were starving, freezing, and perishing and now they’re not!”

 

“We were managing!”

 

The defiance in Hamilton’s eyes grows along with the ferocity of their exchange. He swiftly challenges back, “We were eating horses and dying by the thousands, how exactly is that managing?” 

 

“You didn’t have to do this! We could have found some other ways to get the merchants to cooperate!”

 

“We both know we don’t have time for that. And why should we prolong everyone’s suffering when we don’t have to? It is a price that I am more than willing to pay for freedom.”

 

Suddenly, there is a shift in the atmosphere of the room. Washington levels him with a cool glare, speaking clearly and methodically, his voice a deep rumble, “I’m sure it is. Hamilton, never short of words to ply and convince, uses his mouth the only other way he knows to get his way. Looks like your mother managed to teach you something in her short time with you after all.”

 

“How dare you!” Hamilton is practically hollering now, “After everything that I’ve done for this army, every sacrifice I’ve made for it and for you-”

 

“Please,” Washington interrupted, “the only sacrifice you’ve made is not going off and getting killed in a skirmish chasing glory. This army has need of you Hamilton, whole and unbroken. You gain nothing for us if we find you dead in a ditch, and there will certainly be no glory in it when you’re found so obviously used.”

 

“You’ve never cared about my station before now. You’ve denied me every chance at making something of myself after the war. Why do you suddenly care about my reputation?”

 

“Do not mistake my attempts at keeping you safe as a lack of care. A man with half your intelligence can see that, why do you refuse to?”

 

“Because any General worthy of the title wouldn't hold a brilliant tactician back just to write his letters!”

 

“You arrogant, spoiled brat.” Washington says, rounding the desk and advancing on Hamilton. “Only you would fail to see the importance of using those words of yours rather than your body to advance us to victory. Lacking the opportunity to fight with it, you instead risk yourself, your reputation-and mine-and fuck with it instead.”

 

“Your reputation is hardly-”

 

“Do not pretend that your misdeeds do not reflect upon me! If word of this gets out your proximity to me paints me as an oblivious parent at best, and an incompetent leader unable to control even his closest aide at worst!”

 

Hamilton begins to shrink away from his commander at this, the realization of the potential consequences paired with the overwhelming presence of the man before him making him take a step back. When he replies, his voice is considerably softer. “Sir I never meant to reflect poorly upon you. I was simply trying to aid you in the only way I knew how. I didn't think-”

 

“It is very obvious to me that you didn't think Alexander. And now you leave me in the unfortunate position of needing to bring you to heel. You say this is the only way you know how to help, so get to it. Kneel.”

 

“Sir, I don’t understand-”

 

“Kneel, Hamilton. Show me what exactly has brought us such good fortune.”

 

Looking into the General’s eyes, he can see there is no jest, no room for argument, and he can do nothing but obey. He slides gracelessly to his knees, and the grimace that passes his face does not go unseen. There is a brief expression of irritation on Washington’s face, but it is quickly replaced with stern expectancy. Bringing his gaze down, Hamilton is surprised by the bulge evident underneath the man’s breeches. With the sudden switch in tone he had expected to have to start from nothing. He obviously hadn’t been paying close enough attention before.

 

With a slight shake of his head, he clears his thoughts and bares Washington’s erection to him. The man isn't even fully aroused yet and he is already formidable. Some part of him thrills at the idea of a challenge, and he begins stroking to bring him to full hardness, wanting to see what exactly he is working with. A quick glance up, and Alexander finds Washington staring down at him. He is suddenly struck by the desire to put on a bit of a show, something he hadn’t bothered with for his other patrons. He gives a long, luxurious lick from base to tip before enveloping it in his mouth, keeping searing eye contact the entire time. This barely has an effect on Washington’s expression, the only sign of him being affected at all being an increase in the pace of his breathing. Alexander, filled with the sudden indignation at the lack of response his efforts are getting, quickly doubles down and shoves as much of the man in his mouth as possible. The shock of the sudden movement has an effect, a small gasp finally eased from the man.

 

_ Now we're getting somewhere. _

 

Retreating back, Hamilton sucks hard at the tip, following up with clever ministrations to the sensitive underside of the head. He takes another shot at going down, determined to fit the entirety of Washington’s erection down his throat. The first few tries are unsuccessful, but judging by the staccato breaths above him Washington doesn’t seem to mind. Finally, after a few attempts sliding further and further down, he makes it. Nose pressed to the dark curls at his pelvis, Hamilton looks up as best he can and swallows around the length in his throat. At last this gets the reaction he’s after: a deep, wrecked moan from the man above him and hands carding through his hair. He slides back and repeats the move, surprised to find his own arousal fuelling his ardor into his task. Jaw aching, he refocuses his energy at the head, stroking the rest of the daunting cock and working Washington up to a fever pitch. Time ceases to have meaning, the only thoughts in his head are the heavy cock on his tongue and the fingers cradling the back of his head through his hair. 

 

After an indeterminate amount of time Hamilton senses Washington is near his end. The General’s breaths come out mostly as gasps, and though he seems to be trying his hardest not to, his hips are twitching forward with each descent Hamilton makes. One pleading look upwards combined with hard suction is enough to bring him off, another heavy moan escaping him as he comes into Hamilton’s mouth. He dutifully swallows, not wanting to make a mess and enjoying the wrecked look it puts on his General’s face. 

 

At last he pulls back panting, the ache in his knees and arse forgotten in the wake of the overwhelming arousal he’s now painfully aware of. Washington notices the state he’s in, and before Hamilton can form an apology he’s down on his knees as well, claiming his mouth in a possessive kiss. Hamilton arches up and groans into it, helpless to do anything but kiss back as his face is held like a vice between two massive palms. One slides back into his hair, cupping the back of his head again and holding him in place as the other steals inside his tented breeches. The first touch is like a hot brand, bringing forth more groans from him, and he hardly cares to try and match the General’s initial nonchalance. Washington grips him firmly, and Hamilton is grateful he won’t have to endure any teasing given how riled up he is. Pulling back for air at last, he buries his face in Washington’s collar, trying to at least keep his volume to a minimum. Before long he is thrusting into the tight sheath that Washington’s hand provides, and a murmured  _ Go on my boy, do it, let me see _ is what tips him over the edge, calling out his name quietly as he does so.

 

Pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, Washington cleans off his hand as Hamilton recovers. Now that it’s over, he can scarcely bring himself to look his commander in the eyes until a gentle touch under his chin forces him to meet his gaze. Gone is the rage from before-replaced not by indifference-but with obvious affection. Washington rises to his feet, gently pulling Hamilton up with him, steadying him when he falters on unsteady legs. A small smile and a quick nod, and Washington is returning behind his desk, rifling through the papers scattered on it. When he finds what he’s looking for he clears his throat, offering it towards his aide-de-camp. Hamilton skims the missive, eyes widening with realization of what it contains.

 

“It seems as if your flirtations with those daughters has paid off after all. I don’t imagine we’ll have any problems regarding funds any time soon.”

 

Hamilton drops the paper to his side, shocked at the figures it boasts but still aware that it doesn’t solve the problem with their merchants. Quietly, he responds, “That is very good news indeed sir. Although I’m afraid it doesn’t solve the issue with the vendors entirely given the currency that is on offer.”

 

Washington offers him a rueful smile and a nod, replying equally softly, “You are correct, the currency involved will still be an issue. But given how much of it we have to offer, I believe we will be able to convince them to accept it on the basis of providing a steady income. You needn't spend any more time on your knees or your back to convince them to take it.”

 

His final sentence had an edge to it, but Hamilton couldn’t help but try and volley back anyways, “Sir, if it is what needs to be done to ensure our success then I am more than willing to make that sacrifice.”

 

Washington chuckles, and in a tone that leaves no room for refusal replies, “We will find ways to persuade them that don’t involve you. And do you know why that is Alexander?”

 

Captivated by the intense stare leveled at him, Hamilton can only shake his head no.

 

“Because you are mine.”


End file.
